Rebel Irises and Other Things

Is that Everything?

We went to brunch with a group of folks and the Butcher said later, “you have cool friends. You should hang out with them more often.”

Apparently my coolness quotient needs to be raised some.

But, that’s not the point of this post. The point of this post is that the corn and hollyhocks are planted in front of the shed. And it’s just about to rain.

So, I’m pretty excited.

I have some black-eyed susan seeds, some poppy seeds, and some more marigold seeds, but those are late acquisitions just purchased to fill in if stuff doesn’t come up.

Otherwise, I think every seed I had to plant is in and it’s on them to sink or swim.

“And Egil was the sharp-toothed sea all luck was lost in”

The last line of this poem just did me in. I honestly cannot believe I’m going to be published along side these people. It’s not that I don’t like my story–recording it with the Butcher’s friend as a sound engineer and an audience just reminded me how much I do like it. But damn, some of the stuff in qarrtsiluni is not just good, it’s good.

This poem is good. The Egil under discussion is Egill Skallagrimsson, who was an ugly Viking berserker poet (the berserker part making him a shape-shifter) who ran around laying curses on kings and queens. He and other men in his family would fly into great and murderous rages during the day, but become very quiet and sullen in the evenings.  And, as we’ve talked about here before, he lost his son to the sea.

It’s that fact that makes the last line resonate so deeply for me. That word, luck, in Egil’s context, is so loaded with “weird” and “orlog” connotations. (In fact, trying to explain “weird” and “orlog,” maybe the easiest way is to just say it’s like “luck” and “fate.” They kind of seem like opposites until you look at them too closely.). Couple that with the intense importance of one’s family and one’s family being the continuation of your luck…

I’m just saying, there’s a lot in that last line about Egil’s grief for his son without overstating it.

The New Kitty Takes a Bold Step

Last night, the dog was on the floor in front of the couch, which usually means that the new kitty has pressing business any place but in the living room. But last night, she came slinking over, around the outside of the dining room, behind the chair, and up onto the couch. I don’t know if this was her first trip onto the couch, but it was the first one I witnessed.

And so, she sat cuddled up next to me on the couch, belly up.

With the dog not three feet away.

I know she watches the orange cat for pointers on how to behave, but I’ll admit, I hadn’t imagined a day when she’d be so bold with the dog, even though the orange cat and Mrs. Wigglebottom share the couch all the time.